Chapter 12
A bolt of lightning tore the sky apart, bathing the Quidditch field in a blinding flare. The sea of spectators on the stands blurred into a muddle of house colors and bodies. Even the chants and songs were barely audible in the pounding rain. Alec knew that Jace and Isabell had put up a giant yellow banner reading “HE'S A KEEPER” somewhere. To his despair, he discovered during breakfast that they had charmed a picture of him, that now blew a kiss to everyone who called out his name. The memory made his blood rush to his cheeks. If they would only apply that energy to their studies, they would be unstoppable. Somewhere hidden in the crowd, Magnus was watching him. Despite his dislike of the sport, he had promised that he would attend the game. Alec's heart leapt at the thought of it.
One last time Alec checked the straps and buckles of his leather helmet and chest protector. The practiced movement helped to calm his nerves. Today's weather conditions were, indeed, unfavorable, but he couldn't remember Quidditch ever being canceled because of a little thunderstorm. Safety wasn't exactly the top priority in Hogwarts. It was part of the fun. But at least no one had ever been left with irreversible damage during his time as captain of the Quidditch team.
A shrill whistle pierced the air. All eyes turned to the center of the pitch. Professor Meliorn had been chosen to referee this year's games since his predecessor had retired after an unfortunate encounter with a bludger. He didn't seem too thrilled about his new role and listlessly raised his wand. “You all know the rules, so follow them. Let's get this over with,” he announced, his voice amplified by magic. Beneath the large hood of his cloak, the discontented expression on his face was difficult to discern.
Alec pushed off from the slick grass as soon as the quaffle was thrown, launching himself into the air. Racing toward the goalposts at incredible speed, he swung his broom around with a sweeping motion. Finally, Alec came to a halt in the scoring area overlooking the pitch. A quick glance upwards told him that Underhill and Camille Belcourt were already in a head-to-head race for the golden snitch. In this heavy rain, it was almost impossible to spot the gleaming ball, so they had to give up after just a few seconds. Andrew waved to him from afar. Alec returned the gesture and turned his attention back to the Slytherin team's chasers. Not a second too late.
Raphael Santiago, hunched low over his broomstick, raced straight for Hufflepuff's goalposts, the quaffle clamped under his arm. Lavinia and Simon followed close behind, though it was becoming apparent that they wouldn't get to him in time. The other Slytherin players were keeping a safe distance, it seemed as if Raphael had decided to make the attempt on his own. Alec drew a deep breath and relaxed his clenched fingers. To make a mistake in the first minute of the game would hardly boost team morale. As Santiago made his throw, Alec reacted on instinct and yanked his broom upward. The Quaffel sped towards the goal ring, cutting through the rain. Alec stretched out his arm and intercepted the ball with practiced ease. The surface was wet and slick, almost causing him to lose his hold.
“Nice try, Santiago, maybe next time it'll work.” he called to the Slytherin chaser and passed the Quaffel to Simon, this time more intent on a firm grip. The Hufflepuff saluted him sharply before zipping towards the opponent's goalposts. Soon, Alec could only make out the outline of the yellow cloak through the rain.
“Don't worry about me, Lightwood,” Raphael replied mockingly, turning away. ”I just just wanted to make sure you wouldn't fall asleep on your broomstick.”
Simon dodged a bludger from Emil Pangborn, a burly sixth-year, and took up position to aim for the goal. The Slytherin hunters immediately formed a defensive formation, trying to corner him.
Alec caught himself holding his breath. A bead of sweat ran down his forehead, mixing with the rain. He had been tormenting his team for weeks for this very moment. At the last second, Simon dropped the Quaffle precisely into Lavania Whitelaw's waiting arms. With the Slytherin team's full attention focused on containing the threat Simon posed, they now had a clean shot at the goal rings. A perfectly executed Porskoff play. Bat Velasquez, the Slytherin’s keeper, didn't stand a chance.
“GOAL! GOAL FOR HUFFLEPUFF! THE FIRST GOAL OF THE DAY FOR HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted Lorenzo Rey, who was commentating the game today. His cry of joy was so bloody loud that even Alec could hear it. That didn't sound particularly impartial to him, although that was probably due to a certain seeker.
For a moment, Alec felt neither the piercing cold nor the pelting rain. A wave of euphoria washed over his senses as warm pride spread through his chest. “Great work, everyone! Keep it up!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, hoping that he could be heard on the other side of the field. Simon and Lavinia had made huge progress in the last few weeks.
In a moment of inattention, Alec failed to notice that the two Slytherin beaters, Blackwell and Pangborn, had separated from the group. They were now hovering directly above the goal rings, their eyes fixed on the Hufflepuff keeper. A brief, grim nod was the only sign of their agreement. Pangborn swung his club with all his might, hurling an approaching bludger into Alec's direction. The ball of steel changed its trajectory abruptly, shooting towards Alec at incredible speed. An exasperated murmur went through the crowd. Directly attacking a keeper was not considered good sportsmanship, but not explicitly forbidden.
Alec recognized the impending peril at the last second. His hands gripped the slippery broomstick with a firm resolve, determined to evade the bludger laterally. An anguished grunt escaped Alec's lips as the steel ball scraped along his kneecap. He had almost managed to avoid the bludger altogether, but the force of the collision pushed him sideward, almost knocking him off his Firebolt.
He let out a groan, gritting his teeth as he tried to ignore the throbbing pain in his knee. His maneuver had saved him from breaking his leg, but he wasn't sure how much longer he could stay on the broom. Alec knew he had to be very careful now – one more hit could bring him down, and without a keeper, Hufflepuff wouldn’t stand a chance.
Despite the growing pain, Alec forced himself to return to his position in front of the goal posts. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pangborn's smirk. Anger rose within him, giving him the strength to remain upright. He would not show weakness in front of either of them. “Merlin, Underhill” he muttered to himself, teeth clenched. “You better hurry up with that snitch.”
Over the next few minutes, the game unfolded in a frenzy of color, clouded by a dull haze of pain. The storm appeared to have spent its rage, settling down into a light drizzle. The black and yellow cloak clung to his shoulders, wet and heavy, offering little protection from the cold wind. In his condition, Alec had trouble fending off the relentless attacks of Raphael Santiago and the other Slytherin chasers. Every quaffle he caught seemed to reawaken the pain in his knee. In the end, Alec had to admit to himself that he had reached his limit after Raphael put Slytherin in the lead with two goals in quick succession.
Fortunately, Alec's salvation was not long in coming. Camille Belcourt shot through the clouds, followed closely by Andrew. She looked more like a green-and-silver shadow than a mere human being, her light blonde hair tied back in a tight ponytail.
The golden snitch zipped down towards the muddy grass of the pitch. She extended her arm, reaching for the snitch. An apprehensive silence spread across the entire arena, even Alec inadvertently held his breath. Andrew had caught up with her by now, leaning far over his broomstick. Camille's fingers had almost closed around the snitch when it made an unexpected lurch. Underhill seized the moment and leaped forward.
Alec's heart almost gave out when he realized that Underhill was clutching the broomstick solely with his calves. Andrew threw up his fist in triumph and brought the broom to a halt just before it touched the ground. A radiant smile spread across his face; he had caught the golden snitch.
*****
As soon as Alexander had solid ground beneath his feet, he was swarmed by his teammates. They were all covered in mud, soaked and exhausted, yet he could see the excitement in their sparkling eyes and flushed faces. Careful not to put any more strain on his throbbing knee, he limped towards Underhill. The joy of their victory overshadowed the pain, and Alec gave him a proud pat on the shoulder after praising Simon and Lavinia for their successful manoeuvre.
“Don't you dare risk your life like this again!”, he reprimanded Andrew, voice stern."You could have crushed that thick skull of yours. Trust me, none of us wants to scrape your remains off the Quddtich pitch." That earned him a collective chuckle.
Andrew's blond curls clung to his forehead, wild and unruly. He was still a bit pale, which was hardly surprising given his daring stunt. “Aye, aye, Captain Lightwood. I promise not to endanger my life until the next game.” A bright grin spread across his round face as he held out his fist to reveal the golden snitch to this team.
The deafening cheers of his house mates spilling over from the stands enveloped them from all sides. A victory in the first game could only be a good omen for the rest of the season.
“But nevertheless, I'm proud of you. Your hard work has paid off,” Alec started, clearing his throat. “I've had a few thoughts about how we can further improve our strategy; We can't sit back and relax after this victory. That can wait until our next training session. For now, we should celebrate properly.” With a wave of his hand, he directed his teammates to the changing rooms, following them on shaky legs.
Only a few seconds later, he heard the dull splash of hurried footsteps in the mud. At once, Alec felt two arms wrap around him from behind, pressing firmly against his ribs. “Bloody hell.” Alec swore as the sudden movement shifted his weight to his injured knee. “How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me like that, Izzy.”
“Don't sulk, brother-heart,” his sister cooed, releasing him from her embrace. “One would think you were sitting in Morgenstern's potions class, not that you'd just won the first game of the season.” Isabelle tossed her dark hair over her shoulder, yellow streaks she had charmed in for the occasion twinkling. The mere sight of it would surely have sent his mother to an early grave. Thinking about his parents made him shudder. It took all his strength to pull himself together.
“She's right, Alec,” Jace called out, helping Clary haul the ghastly yellow banner across the lawn. Apparently, the charm had finally worn off and, to Alexander's relief, his portrait was no longer blowing kisses. “Relax a little and stop worrying so much.” Jace's face took on a more serious, almost cold expression. “Pangborn got you pretty good with that bludger, huh?” His scowl fell on Alec's knee. “If you want, Izzy and I can make sure he gets a taste of his own medicine. I'm sure I could find a suitable curse to teach him some manners.” His brother snorted in exasperation. “You should have heard what that slimy toad said about you in the great hall.”
A deep sigh escaped Alec's lips as his shoulders dropped from exhaustion. For a moment he was tempted to take them up on their offer. If he did, though, he wouldn't be much better than Pangborn himself.
“Thanks, Jace, but I think I can take care of myself. If Pangborn wants to spread rumours about me, then let him. To be honest, I don't really care what he thinks of me.” Of course, the words said behind his back stung. But he had no intention of letting these sentiments seep out. He most certainly would not give Pangborn this satisfaction.
Shoving his shame into a dark corner of his mind, he put on a smile, hoping it came across well. He could not afford to show weakness now – not in front of his siblings.
Isabelle cast her big brother a knowing look, smoothing down her tight skirt. “The offer still stands, if you want to reconsider.” Then she nudged him in the direction of the slowly dispersing group of Slytherins. “Have fun, I'll see you in the common room. I heard Helen baked her special brownies again,” Isabelle whispered a little too smugly. Before Alec could protest, she had already turned to leave.
A certain sparkling wizard, having seen off a scowling Raphael Santiago, turned his attention towards Alec. Magnus was pointing his wand upwards, conjuring a transparent umbrella. Unlike most of the students, he looked perfectly dry.
A warm smile spread across his face when their eyes met. It took Alec a moment to remember how to breathe. How Magnus managed to awe him over and over again was truly unfathomable.
Magnus strode towards him, gracefully avoiding the muddy puddles. He placed a hand on Alec's shoulder, pulling him under the umbrella. Escaping the cold drizzle felt heavenly. “Alexander, if it isn't the man of the hour.” Magnus' deep voice filled him with a sense of comfort and security. Coming from Magnus, even his name sounded melodious. Alec was about to interject that this title suited Andrew much better, but Magnus' resolute expression silenced him. Objections were useless. “I can't say that I understood much of the game, but congratulations on the victory. Raphael will no doubt be on my back about this for weeks.” He shook his head in amusement.
Magnus leaned forward on his tiptoes, his lips gently brushing Alec's. For a moment, the world around them seemed to fade. Alec felt his blood rushing to his cheeks; his heart missing a beat.
Magnus gave a small smile, and Alec couldn't help but return it.
Then Magnus squared his shoulders, tightening his grip on Alec's shoulder. He could feel the warmth of his body even through the heavy fabric of the cloak. For a moment Magnus's gaze lingered on his knee. “You're hurt. Lean on me for now and I'll take a look at it in the changing rooms. If necessary we'll go to the hospital wing straight away.” Before Alec could protest, Magnus shot in a dangerous look. “Don't argue, we can't afford to take any chances with something like this. If I get my hands on Pagborn…”
“It's really not that bad,” Alexander muttered, embarrassed, but obediently limped to the changing rooms, supported by Magnus. “I've survived worse.” Alec hesitated for a moment, as he remembered stumbling into the glass cabinet in his father's office. Getting every shard pulled out of his back one by one was something he definitely didn't want to repeat.
“Are you alright? You look a bit pale.” Magnus asked, visibly concerned, pushing back the curtain at the entrance to the changing room. The majority of the Hufflepuff team was already in the shower stalls, leaving the long benches unusually empty.
“Don't worry about it.” Alec's voice didn't sound particularly convincing to his own ears. “I'm just a little exhausted, that's all. A hot shower is all I need,” Alec assured him as he slumped down on the bench.
Rather than a separate structure, the changing rooms consisted of a magically expanded tent. The walls were made of faded canvas stretched between massive beams, giving the room a slightly musty smell.
Magnus raised a sculpted eyebrow. "If you say so. Now stop being brave and let me have a look."
He knelt down on the dirty floor and began to roll up Alec's trouser leg. The additional friction made Alec jolt. He had to clench his jaw to stop himself from crying out. The wet fabric stuck to Alec's leg, making it difficult to move. With Alec's assistance, Magnus finally managed to expose the injured knee.
Magnus drew in a sharp breath as he looked at the swollen, bruised skin around the joint, beginning to turn purple. He obviously had to stop himself from falling into a tirade about what an absurdly violent sport Quidditch was. After swallowing hard, he had regained his composure and pointed his wand at the injury. “Episkey.” he said in a clear voice, the swelling starting to recede at once.
As soon as Magnus had cast the spell, Alec felt the tension drain from his body. The pain that accompanied him since the crash began to fade. After a few seconds, only a slight discolouration remained. ʺThat's more like it,ʺ Magnus commented. ʺAnd now, let's get you under the shower before you catch a cold.ʺ
Before Magnus could stand up, Alec seized his hand. Magnus' fingers lay slender and warm in his larger ones. He gently led them to his lips, placing a feather-light kiss on the soft fingertips. “Thank you.”
This time it was Magnus who blushed.
*****
The Hufflepuff common room was different than Magnus had expected. Even as they walked through the sloping tunnel, he could hear loud music and the buzz of lively conversation. Until now, he had suspected that a social gathering with Hufflepuffs would amount to little more than a cosy tea party.
Magnus noted with irritation that a slight nervousness had settled in his chest. Frustrated, he pushed his shoulders back. Magnus Bane was not afraid of anything, least of all a party. If he was desperate to make a good impression on Alec's friends, that was his business.
It had always come natural to him to hide his worries behind a glittering façade, to cover up his insecurities with sharp humor. Camille had encouraged him in this, insisting that he shouldn't offer anyone a chance to hurt him. In a vulnerable moment he had confessed to her that he was afraid of being too much, too extravagant, too loud, too flamboyant. She had only laughed. After all, there was nothing to worry about.
So he wore his confidence like a suit of armour, laughed at the cruel words and cared little for what others thought of him. But Camille was gone and his world had been thrown out of balance. It took an act of incredible willpower to open up and trust again. But Alec had not yet broken that faith.
“Are you alright?” the Hufflepuff asked, concern lacing his voice.
Magnus' gaze lingered on Alexander's damp hair, gently curling at the ends. Waving any further thought aside, he reached out, running his fingertips along the soft skin between Alexander's neck and jawbone. Still flushed from the heat of the shower, Alec looked less guarded than usual.
“Of course, Alexander,” Magnus replied, putting on a charming smile. “I was just a little distracted.” Alec wouldn't stab him in the back like Camille, Magnus was sure of that.
“If you insist.” Alexander seemed a little suspicious, but decided to let it rest.
He gave Magnus’ hand a reassuring squeeze and pulled him into the circular room, bursting at the seams. The scent of damp earth was replaced by smell of sweet butterbeer and stale cigarette smoke. Students from different grades and houses were clustered together in small groups, chatting and laughing.
In a somewhat secluded corner of the room, Magnus could even make out two third-year Slytherins, grinning as they poured Butterbeer into brown paper cups. Right next to them, someone had set up a small buffet on a wooden table pushed up against the wall. The plate of rich brownies looked divine, Magnus noted in appreciation.
Colourful garlands littered the room and someone had glued a black and yellow party hat to the portrait of Helga Hufflepuff. Magnus chuckled to himself, wondering how the residents of the portraits in the Slytherin common room would react to this.
The Hufflepuff Quidditch team had set up camp on a group of shabby plush sofas in a faded ochre tone. Andrew Underhill was currently showcasing the golden snitch, letting it levitate in front of a group of awe-struck first-years. Their glowing eyes warmed the Slytherin's heart. He longed to be that carefree and happy again.
On a battered side table next to him, an antiquated record player was playing ‘Dancing Queen’ by ABBA. The melody sounded a bit metallic, but that didn't stop Andrew from swaying along enthusiastically.
Alexander's siblings, Isabelle and Jace, had also gathered among the Quidditch players. Adele Nightshade and a muscular Hufflepuff boy with shoulder-length hair, the name of whom Magnus had forgotten, were absorbed in a heated game of Exploding Snap. An erupting card almost seared Adele's eyebrows, causing her to squeak in surprise.
As soon as they noticed Alexander, the room erupted in thunderous applause, accompanied by a few shouts of joy. He raised his hands in surrender, visibly embarrassed to be the centre of attention. “I know, I know, my hair looks fantastic today. I'm glad you're finally giving me the respect I deserve.”
“You wish.” Isabelle, Alexander's sister, called, rising from her seat next to Simon Lewis. A broad grin spread across her face as she approached them. “If you won't listen to me, then maybe you'll listen to Magnus. You could do with a little trim.” She stood on her tiptoes, scrutinising her brother's head with a critical eye.
Alexander let out a resigned sigh. He seemed to have a hard time turning down his siblings. No wonder the sorting hat had chosen Hufflepuff for him. “If I let you cut my hair, will you promise to leave my wardrobe alone? I don't want any more of my sweaters to disappear.”
“Believe me, I did humanity and Magnus a favour with that.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink. “But I can't pass up this opportunity,” Isabelle said with a serious expression. The playful sparkle in her dark brown eyes led Magnus to suspect that she was only teasing Alec. “If you'll excuse me, I have to force my boyfriend to dance with me. Someone has to get this party going.” With that, she turned on her heel and focused her attention on Simon.
Alexander chuckled, “Now you can see why there was never a quiet moment in the Lightwood household.” His voice took on a gentle tone that was reserved only for conversations about his siblings. “Jace and Isabelle in combination are not for the faint of heart.”
Magnus felt his pulse quicken. Alexander and his endearing loyalty would be the death of him one day. “I can see that. Your parents must have had their hands full.”
“Probably.” For a split second, Alexander's expression darkened. A worried frown appeared on his forehead, but then he seemed to pull himself together and gave Magnus a smile. “Come on, I want to introduce you to the others.”
A short time later, Magnus found himself sitting on a wing chair that gave off a rather musty smell. There was a fire crackling in the nearby hearth, exuding a pleasant heat that banished the lingering chill from his limbs.
Alexander had settled down next to him, squashed up against the soft cushion, with their thighs inevitably pressed against each other. With Alexanders arm around his shoulder, it was hard for him to concentrate on the conversations around him. He had rarely seen Alexander as relaxed and open as he was here, surrounded by his friends and siblings. His face showed more emotions as he spoke, his posture less stiff and upright. It was an intoxicating feeling to see Alexander so at ease.
Jace Lightwood had joined them to discuss the upcoming Quidditch matches with his brother. The Slytherin had lost interest in the conversation within a minute and was instead watching the interaction between the siblings. Magnus had always thought of him as arrogant and self-righteous. The golden boy of the Lightwood family who got everything he wanted. But at that moment, Magnus wasn't too sure if he had judged him too fast. Whatever the case, Jace clearly idolised his big brother.
Someone passed him a brown paper cup, containing something that certainly didn't smell like butterbeer. Shrugging, Magnus took a sip of the mysterious liquid and had to stifle a cough as it burned in his throat.
A few metres away from them, Isabelle Lightwood swayed to the beat of the music, skilfully twirling around a focused Simon Lewis. Her long black hair, inlaid with yellow streaks, glistened in the light of the flickering candles. Magnus would definitely have to ask her about the cosmetics she used.
In this moment of tranquillity, Magnus felt he understood Alexander's love for his family better. As long as they were happy, Alec was happy as well.